


The Several Regrets Of Marius Pontmercy

by Ren



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cockblocking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren/pseuds/Ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Marius regrets his life choices, Courfeyrac is a terrible friend, and they get stuck under the bed while Enjolras and Grantaire have sex on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Several Regrets Of Marius Pontmercy

**Author's Note:**

> So [this](http://littlewadoo.tumblr.com/post/50587571422/quiet-marius-im-thinking-of-a-plan-to-get) was on Tumblr, and it was so perfect I couldn't help myself, even though I notice now there's already a fic about it. Ooops. I am a slow writer. I am also a writer of terrible things. Sorry Marius, I like you and all but your panicky face is hilarious.

It's Courfeyrac's fault, Marius thinks. Everything is Courfeyrac's fault. Sure, maybe Marius should have thought twice before agreeing to it, but how was he supposed to know that it would end like this?

It starts innocently enough, or at least as innocently as possible for anything that involves Courfeyrac. It starts with post-its. Several post-its, a whole box full of them in fact, which Marius gets as a freebie from his part-time job at the bookshop. It's way more post-its that he and Courfeyrac could ever use in a lifetime, but at the same time they are two broke students and loathe the idea of throwing away anything. So the box of post-its sits in their living room for a couple of months, being alternatively used as a coffee table or cursed when someone trips over it.

Until this morning, when Courfeyrac barges into Marius's room holding a handful of post-its. "I'm liberating your post-its," he announces, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "I just thought of the best possible use for them."

That alone should tip off Marius about the disaster looming on the horizon, but he's a hopeless optimist and he's curious about which use Courfeyrac could have found for a thousand of post-its, so instead of running like hell he says, "Tell me more."

That's how they end up on the landing in front of Enjolras's flat, with Marius holding the box of post-its in front of himself like a shield and Courfeyrac trying to turn the keys into the lock.

"I'm not breaking in, it's the lock that's a bit rusty," Courfeyrac says, for the third time in a minute, which makes him sound maybe less reassuring than he means to. "Enjolras gave me the keys forever ago, he probably forgot that I have them. It's okay."

"Um," says Marius, who's still not convinced that this is okay. "Are you sure he's not going to be here?"

Courfeyrac nods and finally manages to get the door open, motioning for Marius to go in. "Yeah, yeah, he mentioned something about putting up posters this afternoon. He's barely ever home anyway." He shuts the door behind the two of them, then rubs his hands and gives Marius a conspiratorial wink. "Where should we start?"

Marius, still somewhat reluctant, looks around. The apartment is small and tidy. It looks like Courfeyrac said, like Enjolras doesn't spend a lot of time here. "Um," he says again, helpfully.

"Bedroom," Courfeyrac cuts in before he can say anything else, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway. "Great thinking, Pontmercy!"

Marius doesn't want to go into Enjolras's bedroom, but he doesn't want to stand in the hallway alone and laden with post-its either, so he follows Courfeyrac into the bedroom. "Are you sure it _is_ okay?" Marius insists, trying not to look around too much. "It feels like we're intruding." The bedroom is still sparsely furnished, but unlike the rest of the flat it does look lived in. There's Enjolras's clothes thrown over a chair, a pile of political books on the desk, a half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand.

"Duh," Courfeyrac says, dumping the box of post-its in the middle of the floor and fishing a couple of sharpies out of his pocket. "Of course we're intruding, that's what our friends always do. As far as invasions of privacy go, this is mild, it's not as if we're going to look into his underwear drawer." He pauses. Picks up a block of post-its. Looks up at Marius. "Unless you want to. We should totally label his underwear, too!"

The plan is devilish in his simplicity: for every item in Enjolras's flat, write the name of the item on a post-it, then stick the post-it on the item. Maybe not the most original prank, but Marius grins at the thought of Enjolras's reaction. It's official, living with Courfeyrac has ruined him.

"We should," he agrees, taking one of the sharpies and uncapping it. Courfeyrac grins at him.

That's when everything goes horribly, horribly wrong. Marius hasn't even finished writing on the first post-it when he hears noises outside, like someone's trying to fit a key into the door. He makes a face, which is probably the same face Courfeyrac is making in front of him.

"You said he wouldn't be home!" Marius hisses between his teeth, feeling like this is divine retribution for being a terrible friend and a terrible human being, he's going to go to church this Sunday and ask for forgiveness for all his sins. Provided that he lives until Sunday.

"Maybe it's a burglar?" Courfeyrac hisses back, hopeful, like they really would be better off if this was a burglar instead of Enjolras. But, no, it's really Enjolras, they can hear him mutter a curse as he finally gets the key to turn in the lock.

Marius stares at the door like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Courfeyrac, the quicker at thinking, or maybe more versed in pranks gone wrong, drops his post-its into the box and kicks it under Enjolras's bed. The comforter hides it from sight. "Maybe he's only here to grab some supplies. Get under the bed," Courfeyrac says, motioning frantically. Marius doesn't need to be told twice.

They crawl into the narrow space, trying not to sneeze from all the dust. Marius accidentally elbows Courfeyrac on the nose as they squirm around making sure that none of their arms and legs are still visible. They lie on the cold parquet side by side, trying not to make any noise.

It's very uncomfortable and Marius hopes that Enjolras is going to just take his posters, or his flyers, or whatever it is that he came home for, and leave quickly. "I should have that door fixed," they hear Enjolras mutter as he stomps around.

Someone else laughs. Marius tenses because who's this, what's happening, this wasn't part of the plan. "You say that every time," says Grantaire's voice, and Marius fights the urge to sigh with relief. It's just Grantaire, he's probably here to help Enjolras with his posters, because he's nice like that.

Marius has about ten seconds to feel relieved before he hears footsteps approaching and a pair of scuffed grey converse come into view. Then Grantaire sits down and the bed dips under his weight with a creak of old springs.

"Come here," Grantaire says, and for one frantic moment Marius thinks that they've been discovered, the gig is up and they'll have to face Enjolras's wrath without even getting to prank him first. Courfeyrac wraps one arm around Marius's shoulders to make him stop squirming and puts a finger on his lips, silently telling him to shut the hell up. It dawns on Marius that Grantaire has not noticed them, is not talking to them, but then it means that he's talking to...

Enjolras's red converse walk towards the bed. They stop barely centimeters away from Marius's face, right in front of Grantaire's shoes, like Enjolras is in Grantaire's personal space, and Marius puzzles over why and how that could be possible. Then there's a moan.

All of the catastrophic scenarios that Marius has been building in his head are nothing compared to what's actually happening. Marius turns fifty shades of red, all of them at the same time, and makes an involuntary strangled noise. Courfeyrac elbows him in the ribs to make him shut up.

"Enjolras," says Grantaire, sounding breathless, and Courfeyrac is _so_ dead.

Marius watches in horrified fascination as Enjolras climbs on the bed -- no, his treacherous brain supplies, he climbs into _Grantaire's lap_ \-- until only one of his shoes is visible under the edge of the comforter. Then there's more wet kissing noises, and a low, throaty moan that ensures Marius is never going to be able to look Enjolras in the eye again. Ever.

This is all Courfeyrac's fault. Marius hadn't even know about the phrase throaty moan before moving in with Courfeyrac, and he could have done without it in his life, but Courfeyrac has questionable taste in reading materials and insists on sharing them with Marius, to 'broaden his horizons' as he puts it. Marius's horizons were fine as they used to be, thank you very much, there's some mental scarring now that no amount of therapy will make go away.

He wishes he could block out the sounds, but he can't. Now not only there's kissing and loud breathing, there's also a rustling of clothes. Marius sends out a quick prayer to the saint patron of poor life choices and hiding under beds, but apparently there's no such saint because his prayer goes unanswered. Something falls to the floor with a muffled noise, making Marius jump, but it's just Grantaire's green sweater.

Except it's not _just_ Grantaire's sweater, it's _Grantaire's sweater_ , which is _no longer on Grantaire_ , which means there's going to be nudity. In this room. Soon. Very soon, judging by how quickly Enjolras's cardigan and shirt join the sweater on the floor. From somewhere above Marius, Enjolras laughs.

Marius wants to ask Courfeyrac if he even knew about the two of them being together, but judging from the way Coufeyrac's eyebrows are climbing into his hairline, no, he had no idea at all. And probably could have done without knowing.

"Fuck, R, I've been thinking about you all day," Enjolras says, and then there's a wet sucking noise whose origin Marius doesn't even want to guess at. Marius wants to curl up in a ball and cry.

Courfeyrac, that sorry excuse for a friend, doesn't even let him do that. He puts one hand around Marius's shoulder to keep him fron thrashing around madly in his despair, and puts his phone in front of Marius's nose. Marius squints and reads what's written on the screen.

_Quiet Marius, I’m thinking of a plan to get out._

Marius wants to cry even more. He snatches the phone from Courfeyrac and types, as quickly and quietly as he can, even though he thinks by now the two on the bed wouldn't hear him even if he burst into song.

_No. No more plan. I’m too young to die._

"Can I?" says Grantaire, his voice so rough it's almost unrecognizable, and Enjolras's reply is low and muffled and Marius misses it, but it was probably enthusiastic agreement because the bed starts rocking and another unidentified piece of clothing lands on the floor.

Next to him on the floor, Courfeyrac eyerolls. _Marius,_ he types, muttering it silently for good measure.

No, Marius nothing. Marius refuses not to be horrified by this turn of events, no matter what Courfeyrac might think of him. He knows he's a bit of a joke in their group because of his inexperience, but so what, it's a legitimate choice, he and Cosette decided to wait and it's sweet and it's _romantic_ and now two of his friends are doing unspeakable things to each other less than one metre away from him and his innocence is completely ruined. Forever. Courfeyrac is going to pay for this.

_And I’m way too young to be in the same room than R and Enjolras having the sex._

_For God’s sake Pontmercy!_ is Courfeyrac almost immediate reply, but no matter how much Courfeyrac is trying to keep his cool, Marius can see he's blushing.

Especially when the bed rocks again, making dust motes dance around, and Enjolras bites off a moan. "God, Grantaire, your mouth, do that again," Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac is resolutely not meeting Marius's horrified stare.

Marius's wish for a quick and painless death doesn't come true. Grantaire does the thing again. And then again. One of Courfeyrac hands is still on Marius's mouth and it looks as Courfeyrac is fighting the urge to scream too. Marius clings to his arm like a drowning man. Like a man drowning in a sea of wrong, disturbing noises.

Then Enjolras says, "Get the condoms," and Marius can see someone's arm rifling through one of the bedside table's drawers, and that's it, nope, he's not ready for this, he wants to keep whatever's left of his innocence.

Help. He needs help, now. Courfeyrac is Marius's go-to helpful guy, but there's nothing Courfeyrac can do to help, except regret his life choices very deeply. So Marius grabs his phone and texts Cosette.

_HELP NO TIME TO EXPLAIN R AND ENJ BANGING STOP THEM_

It's a testament to the sheer awesomeness of his girlfriend that after less than a minute Enjolras's phone rings. There's a (blessedly not sexual) groan from the bed, and the sound of a head hitting the pillow.

"Don't," Grantaire pleads, but Enjolras is already fishing out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

"I have to, could be important," Enjolras says, only slightly out of breath. His voice almost sounds normal when he picks up the phone and says, "Hey Cosette," like he hadn't been having sex, not that Marius can easily forget about that. It will haunt him to his dying day. "Yeah," Enjolras says into the phone. "Yes, of course... Right now?... I... Yes. All right then... See you in ten minutes."

Marius silently gives thanks to Cosette, feeling like he might die with relief. He feels sorry for Enjolras and Grantaire, Grantaire sounds especially put upon and grumbles as he starts to get dressed again, but then there's more kissing noises and Enjolras whispers something in between kisses, and Grantaire hums happily and says, "I'll hold you to that," and Marius thinks that those two will be all right and really need to leave now before carving more scars into his tender young mind.

After the door closes behind Enjolras and Grantaire, Marius waits a few minutes before crawling out from under the bed. His clothes are dusty and one of his legs has fallen asleep. Courfeyrac retrieves the box of post-its, which Marius completely forgot about, and they get the hell out. No pranks. Marius isn't going to prank anyone ever again, he's seen the error of his ways and is sincerely sorry.

He and Coureyrac don't talk on the way home, trying hard to pretend that the last hour of their life never happened. It's not working. There isn't enough brain bleach in the world.

What Cosette said on the phone to make Enjolras leave remains a mystery. After a while (because Courfeyrac isn't really good at not talking) Courfeyrac suggests that maybe she put a kitten on a tree to create an emergency.

Marius resents the implication that his lovely, sweet, adorable girlfriend could ever be so devious. He sends her a lenghty thank you message and invites her over for dinner to express his gratitude properly and without spell check hindering his attempts at poetry.

Cosette shows up at precisely the appointed time, looking beautiful in a summer dress. She kisses him hello and waves at Courfeyrac. "So," she says as they sit down for dinner, smiling innocently. "Grantaire and Enjolras are together? As a thank you for saving you two, I want all the details."

Marius and Coureyrac blanch.


End file.
